I will always see the world through a child’s eyes. When I was eight years old, I lost my eyesight. I woke up one morning and I couldn’t see past my own hand. I told my mother what was happening, but she shrugged it off. My six brothers and sisters were fighting for her attention while she attempted to get us all ready for school. My father was still in bed; I would never have told him anyway. Clueless when it comes to raising children, I love my father nonetheless.

My eyesight went from bad to worse within hours, until everything went dark by mid-afternoon. By then I was sitting in the classroom. My teacher noticed that I was starting to panic and called me out into the hallway. I stood up, stumbled and didn’t make it past my desk. I explained my situation as my eyes welled up with fearful tears. My teacher called the school nurse who quickly came to get me.

My mother left her job to come down to the school. Everyone was extremely concerned; more troubled by how quickly I’d lost my sight, then anything else. I believe by the end of that week I had seen four specialists and not one of them knew what was happening to me.

Time passed slowly. My siblings helped me get from A to B; my mother did everything else. I pretty much knew my way around the house and I could feel my way to our backyard. Our dog Beau seemed to understand my situation better than anyone else. He stayed by my side as I became more and more familiar with the life of a non-seeing person. Everything I pictured was as I remembered it when I could see. Initially everyone treated me like I was very sick and would never get better. As time went by, our household returned to my pre-blind state. I was not diagnosed until three months after I lost my sight.

My parents were told I had a very rare virus which had attacked my cornea and caused my blindness. No cure, no hope. I was told that I would have to adapt and so I did. I found that my imagination provided far more color than what I recalled; I was grateful for a fairly decent memory of objects and contrast. I kept my thoughts about my new world to myself, I’m selfish that way.

What I keenly realized is how it was almost as if I wore a cloak that made me invisible. I was in the room, but people behaved as if I wasn’t there. I wasn’t asked my opinion or made to feel seen; I was treated almost like a family pet.

As I got older and became more independent, I felt myself developing what I thought were super powers. I heard everything clearly; I could smell sincerity; and I could feel the presence of others before they uttered a sound. I silently wondered if anyone sensed my hyper awareness. Clearly most people around me were self-absorbed and clueless; I was certain I could use that to my advantage.

I had always been intensely introverted, that didn’t change. What I couldn’t see with my eyes, I could visualize with my mind. I saw the true character of people all around me. One October Sunday, a cousin from Croatia came to visit the family. He had been talking to my parents when I entered the living room. I picked up on a dark aura and many secrets. I heard quiet whispers and sounds people didn’t even realize they were making. When Sal left, my parents expressed their delight; clearly hoping to spend more time with him. The following Saturday we were all out for a day in the country and the house was broken into. I could feel and smell Sal’s aura everywhere, like manure on an open field. I told my parents what I’d experienced and they quickly dismissed any notion that Sal may have broken-in. Months later Sal was arrested for a string of burglaries and our things were discovered in his garage. My parents dismissed my intuition as coincidence.

Not long after, I was in a restaurant eating at a table not far from what I believe were two gentlemen. One of the two was describing a hit on the restaurant owner. They spoke to one another as if I was not sitting nearby. I got up from the table to call the police. I later learned that the two men were arrested for having murdered several individuals in the Washington area.

I learned that this sensory awareness could assist investigators in solving crimes. I decided to study Forensic Science at The Seattle Institute for the Blind. It was there that my talents were finally recognized. Upon graduating, I accepted a position with the FBI. I am one of just three individuals in the country assisting in solving forensic crime. Being blind enables me to quietly navigate my environment, rarely being noticed or questioned. Without realizing it, most people think that because I cannot see, I cannot make sense of the world I inhabit. I prove them wrong daily.

I often use Henry, my seeing eye dog, to confirm my suspicions. Again, Henry is only viewed as my guide dog; very few are aware of his talent for sniffing out the truth. I would never go so far as to say I enjoy being blind; however, the world I see is vibrant; my imagination, a sensory buffet.

Please provide your email in order to subscribe. Thank you.

An old shoulder injury had been making it difficult to carry out day-to-day tasks, so I finally bit-the-bullet and had replacement surgery. Typing with one hand is difficult, but my limitations won’t last long. Physical therapy begins next week and I’ll be back to my old self before you know it.

Taking a quick trip to Bristol, England in a few weeks. I’ll be wearing my very uncomfortable sling and carrying a light overnight bag. I’m going stir crazy as I convalesce. I know it will do me good mentally and physically. Watching my upper body quickly atrophy is no fun. Time and patience Christopher.

Like so many, I’m digesting less news these days. My bandwidth for divisive politics has decreased; feeling defeated and hopeless. I do believe people will eventually come to know the error of their ways, but realistically, we are years away from any real progress. The new U.S. administration and a couple of supreme court appointments, will set us back decades and reinforce hate, bias, and religious extremism.

My goal is to find a place of acceptance and tolerance. Becoming an angry, hateful, bitter old man is not in the cards. I want to remain hopeful and continue to thrive in this new reality.